by J. Randal Matheny
Today is Friday, but the hour’s unsure,
We’ve crossed a zone of time, or two or three;
To find the body’s clock there’s but one cure:
A week of sleep within our new degree.
Unsure are sluggish minds of latter days,
Who read the heaven’s clouds for sun and rain,
But cannot see the hand of God that stays
The end in patience, whose warning words are plain.
— ‹‹«»›› —
Jet lag is a modern phenomenon. Did the ancients feel anything similar? Only a Very Fast-Moving Vehicle can produce it. Good thing we travel mostly north-south, rather than east-west, so that ours is slight.
What is not a modern phenomenon is rejecting the warnings of God that the end is near, that judgment rushes toward us. How about you, my friend? Have you taken advantage of God’s patience to begin living for him rather than self?
Friday is named because the first stanza was written yesterday, day of our arrival home from the US. The second stanza appeared this morning.